Gate: Thus the Elder Scrolls sent me there
by Cirex Review
Summary: Clovis, Altmer mercenary, secret agent of the Psijic Agent, and a mer trying to make up for an ill past, finds himself in Falmart. There, he will face crazed apostles, scheming nobles, and a plot that involves two worlds. He's no Hero, Nerevarine, Champion, or Dragonborn, but he might just be the right mer at the right time.
1. Chapter 1

_Whiterun Hold_

With tired hands, Clovis pulled his blade out of the Nord's chest, and then kicked her body to the ground. His golden eyes scanned the field, trying to pick out familiar figures from the chaos of battle.

He fixed his gaze to the sight of a greying Khajiit, armed with a shortsword, trying desperately to stay alive against a huge Nord wielding a two handed hammer.

Clovis ran forward, mindful to keep his balance in the muddy grass, sword at the ready. In his left hand, a ball of lightning his palm, waiting to be unleashed.

As the Nord swung at the Khajiit, Clovis unleashed his lightning, striking the warrior in the head, and killing him instantly.

The Khajiit dropped to her knees, and began panting heavily. Clovis bent down and placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Are you wounded Dra-Jarna?" he asked.

She shook her head and looked up, smiling a bit.

"This one thanks you for your concern Clovis, but it will take more than a large man with a hammer to injure Dra-Jarna! Still, Dra-Jarna will not say no if you offer her a stamina potion."

Clovis stabbed his sword into the ground, reached into his sidepack, and pulled out a flask, offering it to Dra-Jarna, who took it in her free claw, three her head back, and downed around a cup of green liquid. When she lowered her head, her eyes widened as she looked past the both of them.

"Behind you!" she shouted.

Clovis raised his sword and blocked a blow from an axe, coming face to face with a scowling Nord.

Dra-Jarna shot past him, claws extended, and slashed the Nord's face, causing him to scream in pain. The Khajiit matriarch knew an opening when she saw one, and grabbed the Nord by the shoulders, clamped her jaws around his neck, and tore out his throat.

"Many thanks Dra-Jarna." Clovis said as he took a swig from his flask, fleeing the potion restore his tired body, even if only by a bit.

"You can thank Dra-Jarna by helping her find her grandchildren in this mess." she replied picking up her short sword, "Dra-Jarna has not seen them since the fight began."

"The La's and Ja'Singh are adults." Clovis said as he scanned the battlefield, "They don't need you constantly watching them."

"When you have children of your own, you will understand." Dra-Jarna said, her ears twitching, "Until then, just help Dra-Jarna!"

"If you insist My Lady."

Clovis raised a hand and cast the clairvoyance spell. A stream of blue light appeared before him, leading deep into the center of battle, where his mercenaries and the Nords fought one another.

"There." he said, dismissing the spell before it could drain more of his magicka, "It seems they're all sticking together."

"Good; then let us go."

Dra-Jarna led the way, followed by Clovis, who sheathed his sword in favor of dual casting flames, setting alight several foes on their way to Dra-Jarna's grandchildren.

"Do not fear Old Cat." Clovis said as the pair of them ran, dodging a hail of Nord arrows, "They'll be fine; Ja'Singh is as slippery as an eel, and the La's, well, you know the La's."

"You know they hate it when you call them that." Dra-Jarna said with a smile, "It makes them sound like twins."

"If they don't like it, then maybe they should stop finishing each other's sentences, and cease to dress alike." Clovis suggested.

Dra-Jarna's scoff was cut off by the sudden appearance of a wall of frost, which froze several Nords before them in their tracks.

"That's them." Clovis stated, using his sword to shatter a frozen Nord.

Ahead were three Khajiit; though no one would have been able to guess they were related. The male, J'Singh, looked every bit like the catfolk of Elsewyr, being grey with black stripes, clad in finely crafted leather armor, and wielding a sword in one hand and a short sword in the other, practically dancing circles around his opponents. The other two looked nothing like cats; instead, they looked like especially short bosmer, brown skinned and with pointed ears. They were, in fact, Ohmes Khajiit, a breed that looked the most like mer, with the only way to tell them apart from bosmer was the catlike warpaint upon their faces. La'Soasha, the elder girl, used a staff of frost, while La'Kisada, the younger, used a staff of flames.

Together, the three cousins held off a dozen angry Nords, using magic to keep them at bay, while J'Singh slashed at them with his swords.

"Ho there grandchildren!" Dra'Jarna shouted as she joined them, "Still alive I see!"

"Yes grandmother." J'Singh said, "These barbarians are no match for J'Singh."

"Don't get cocky J'Singh." Clovis said as he unleashed his flames upon the Nords, "That's a fast way into an early grave."

""Listen to-" La'Soasha began.

"Clovis!" La'Kisada finished.

"He's been-"

"Around!"

"Would you stop that." J'Singh groaned, "You make J'Singh's head hurt when you do that."

"Focus!" Clovis ordered, taking off an enemy's head with a swing of his sword, "We're not in practice, we're in a battle! Be serious, or else you'll lose your damn heads!"

Clovis' mercenary company/adventurer's guild, the "Azure Lions," were hired by a rich Breton merchant, Gondrier Frasven, from Daggerfall, to retrieve a chest from Skyrim, specifically from one of the ancient tombs that dotted the countryside of that land. Fighting their way through the undead draugr, Clovis' men found what they were looking for; an out of place dwemer chest, locked, and with no apparent way of opening it.

In the process of transporting the chest back to High Rock, the Lions were attacked by a hand of a hundred or so Nord bandits, who came in from all directions, attacking Clovis' band of thirty-five mercenaries.

Needless to say, things looked desperate.

"Do either of you girls have any magicka potions?" Clovis asked the La's. La'Soasha nodded, and pulled out a blue potion, handing it to Clovis, who eagerly took it, letting out a quick thanks to the girl before taking a drink, grimacing as it went down.

"Still taste's awful." he said, but nonetheless he felt his reserves of magical power return to him, "But it does the job."

He charged a lightning spell in both hands, then unleashed it, electrocuting several bandits at the same time.

"This is not looking good." Dra'Jarna stated, "There's still too many of them!"

"Then we abandon the cargo." Clovis announced, quickly drawing his sword and cutting down another Nord, "We let them have it."

"But I thought we never went back on our contracts?" La'Kisada asked.

"We'll get it back later." Clovis explained, "But I'm not throwing away the Lion's lives in a battle where we're likely to all get slaughtered. So we leave for now, and then we take our revenge later. Dra'Jarna, you're in charge of rounding up our people and falling back."

"What about you?" the elder Khajiit asked, concern in her eyes, and those of her grandchildren.

"I'm going to find Shura and her Axe-Sisters." he said, "We'll hold them off, cover your retreat. If I don't make it, then Dra'Jarna, you're in charge; understood?"

"... Dra'Jarna understands."

Clovis saw the familiar sight of a dozen Orsimer fighting together, holding off a score of Nords.

"There they are." he said, "Now go!"

The Khajiit did as they were ordered, and Clovis began to make his way towards the orcs… only to notice that the battle had stopped.

Not in the way that people had stopped fighting; but that everyone was frozen in place, caught in the act of violence.

"What in the name of the Eight and One…" Clovis began, "Wait, this is…"

"It has been a while Clovis."

Clovis turned around and saw another Altmer, like himself, dressed in rich blue robes, the only other person moving besides himself.

"Master Olquen." Clovis said, bowing his head to the woman, "It's been a while since you contacted me."

"We have no time for pleasantries Clovis." she said, "A great threat comes now, and we see you in the middle of it."

"I would be more than happy to do your bidding right now Master." Clovis said, "But, in case you have not noticed, I am in the middle of something right now. If I survive this, then could we speak then?"

"You misunderstand." Olquen stated, "That which is coming is occuring as we speak. Be prepared. I cannot stay for much longer; stay alive."

"Wait, what are you talking about?" Clovis asked, but he received no answer as Olquen disappeared.

"Damn Psijics." he muttered under his breath as time returned to normal.

He was pulled out of his thoughts when a screaming Nord charged him. Clovis raised his sword to meet him when the ground began to shake.

"Oh what now?" he Clovis said between gritted teeth, "I swear Olquen, if this is you again-"

A stone structure, as large as a tower, materialized from thin air, as if it had been summoned by a powerful conjuration spell.

It was a colossal gateway, made of stone, with a reflective magic in the center.

"Well… she wasn't kidding when she said it was coming." Clovis muttered, noticing that everyone around him had ceased fighting.

A chorus of voices spoke up all at once.

"Is it an Oblivion Gate-"

"Can't be! The Dragonfires still burn-"

"Talos save us-"

"What is that thing-"

Clovis took this distraction to reach Shura and her Axe-Sisters, grabbing her shoulder to get her attention.

"Shura, we need to pull back."

"But that Oblivion Gate," she started, "Daedra could come out-"

"If it is an Oblivion Gate, then we don't want to be around much longer to find out what kind of daedra are the other side-"

"Something's coming out!" he heard someone shout.

Sure enough, something had emerged from the gate… _somethings_ to be exact. Men, clad in armor and riding horses emerged, first a dozen, and then a dozen more, and then a dozen more.

"They don't look like daedra." Shura said, "They look like the Imperial Legion."

"Even worse then." Clovis said, "But somehow I doubt these folk are from Cyrodiil. We need to leave before they attack-"

A horn was blasted, and the riders spurred their horses on. The first line cut down bandits and Lions alike, caring not whom was who; all were foes to them it seemed.

"We need to cover our people's retreat!" Clovis shouted, firing an ice spike at a rider, which pierced the metal plate and buried itself into the rider's chest, "Put the Nords in between us and them, while we escape-"

"Clovis, look out!" he heard Shura shout. Clovis turned around, and the last thing he saw was a the flat of a sword coming at him.

Then, blackness.

* * *

When Clovis awoke, it was to a splitting headache, while laying down. Past the pain, he could feel the mud and the dried blood on his forehead, and it had no doubt gotten into his golden hair as well.

He sat up slowly, only to hit his head on something metal. Groaning, he looked around, and saw that metal bars blocked his view of what appeared to be a moving road. Further inspection would reveal that he was in a cage, along with several other people, on the back of a moving wagon, being taken to Divines only know where.

Oh, and his wrists and ankles were also manacled together.

"Well Clovis," he muttered to himself, "This is another fine mess you've gotten yourself into."

* * *

 _ **Gate: Thus The Elder Scrolls Sent Me There**_


	2. Chapter 2

Coping with the splitting pain in his head, CLovis took in his surroundings. Clearly, he was no longer in Whiterun Hold, or any part of Skyrim for that matter. The rolling plains and vast grasslands for as far as the eye could see reminded him of nowhere he had ever been.

'This must be the other side of the Oblivion Gate.' he thought, 'Nothing at all like how Dagon's tortured hellscape was described in the histories.'

The cage that Clovis had been shoved into contained several other people besides himself; unfortunately, they were the Nord bandits who had attacked him, not his people.

"What are you looking at elf?" one of them said, "You're lucky we're shackled to the bars, otherwise I'd have strangled you with these chains."

"And there is the Nords' famed hospitality." Clovis replied, rolling his eyes at the man's belligerance while looking at the scenery, "It's enough to make a mer feel unwelcome."

"Skyrim is no place for your kind elf. Skyrim belongs to its true sons and daughters, not to invaders."

'Quite the rhetoric this one is spewing. An ex-Stormcloak rebel perhaps? It is hard to tell, considering that it seems even non-Stormcloak Nords are simple-minded bigots.'

"Well, if that is the case, then when are your people leaving?" Clovis asked, "I'm sure the Falmer would love to know."

He was expecting an angry retort, only to be surprised when no response came at all. It was then that the carriage stopped moving, and the air took on a blue glow. Clovis turned his gaze back to the center of the cage, and saw Olquen sitting there.

"Master." he said, nodding his head, "I'd bow, but as you can see, I'm presently… well, indisposed."

Clovis rattled his manacles to prove his point.

"You and I both know that no chains can hold you Agent. I assume that you are waiting for an opportunity to escape?"

"You are correct. Just need to wait until nightfall, when the big idiots driving this wagon fall asleep, then I will make my escape."

"Good. You have work to do."

"Excellent; would you mind telling me what this work entails, or are you going to give me the customary Psijic vagueness?"

"I never withhold information from you Agent; if I do not tell you something, it is because I do not know myself. In any case, the Order has discovered a prophecy concerning this Gate."

"Speaking of which, where exactly am I? A place of Oblivion?"

"Not one of the planes, but a Nirn-like world, connected to ours through the Gate that opened in Whiterun Hold. Even as we speak, an army over a hundred-thousand strong has marched through the Gate, and has occupied the surrounding countryside. We fear they will move on Whiterun itself soon."

"Did you say over a hundred-thousand?" Clovis asked, "The Empire hasn't had that many troops since the Septim Dynasty, and even if the Jarls all pooled their own private forces together, that wouldn't nearly be enough. Only the Aldmeri Dominion has a force around that size, but they're… well… the Thalmor. That just goes without saying."

"Indeed. In any case, the Conclave is meeting to discuss future strategy. You will be part of that strategy Agent; a very important part of it."

Clovis' eyes narrowed. Ever since he had started his "relationship" with the Psijics more than twenty years ago, they had asked him to complete missions in the lands he and the Lions traveled to, usually against the Thalmor, undermining their operations. Still, he knew that he was but one of an unknown number of agents that the Psijics employed, and the tasks assigned to him were never at the level of importance that Olquen seemed to be implying.

"One of our agents has come across an Elder Scroll." she explained, paying no mind to Clovis' bulging eyes.

An Elder Scroll. A piece of the divine, with power above that of the holy Aedra and the damnable Daedra.

"And has taken it to a Moth Priest associate, who read what was contained within. It spoke of a Gate to another world being opened, of an army stepping through to conqueror."

"I'd say that the Scroll has been accurate so far." Clovis said.

"There is more I am afraid; there is always more when a Scroll is involved. The prophecy also speaks of a growing power that will come from this world, which shall drown both ours and theirs in a sea of blood and destruction."

"Does the scroll go into specifics?"

"No."

"Typical."

"There is a second part to the prophecy however, recorded on another Scroll."

"I do not suppose you know where this Scroll is, do you?"

"It is in this world,that much we do know."

"How is that possible?" Clovis asked, "How does an Elder Scroll end up outside of Nirn?"

"None can truly understand the Scrolls." Olquen answered, "Many have tried over the years, even in the Order; none have succeeded."

"So don't question it?"

"Essentially."

"So, then I assume my task is to find this second Elder Scroll, find out a way to decipher the second half of the prophecy, and then report back to the Order. Am I missing anything?"

"Learn as much as you can about this world in the process Agent; who rules here, the people, if they have more soldiers, and so on. I have every confidence that you will succeed."

Clovis nodded. Then his eyes widened as he remembered something; something important.

"Did any of my Lions survive?" he asked, "Did they manage to escape?"

Olquen lowered his eyes, and at the sight of that, Clovis felt his stomach turn.

"Many of your companions were slain." she said, "Others were taken prisoner. Only a handful were able to flee."

"Who? Please Master, tell me who it was."

"The Khajiit matriarch, and her grandchildren."

Clovis let out a sigh of relief. The loss of so many friends all at once was hard enough, but the thought that Dra-Jarna and her grandchildren were still alive lifted his spirits.

"Could you tell them that I'm still alive, and that they shouldn't worry about me?" he asked, "I'm not asking you to reveal yourself to them, just… find a way to let them know. Please?"

"I shall Agent." Olquen said, a ghost of a smile on her face, "Your friends will receive your message. Now I must leave; you know what you must do."

Clovis nodded, and the the Psijic disappeared, the world returned to normal, and time flowed once more.

Clovis felt a glob of spit hit his face. Scowling, her turned to the Nord who he shared a cage with.

Oh, that was right; he had insulted the Nord before Olquen stopped time.

"That's what I think of you and your jokes elf." he said, "If Ulfric was still alive…"

Clovis tuned out the man ramblings, and began looking over the guards; two sitting at the front of the wagon, six on horseback surrounding them. He could handle that many right now if he chose, but he'd wait till nightfall, for the maximum advantage.

Till then, he would internally debate if, when he made good his escape, if he was going to kill his obnoxious cagemates, or simply leave them behind for the wolves… or whatever the equivalent to wolves this world had.

* * *

" _Open_." Clovis whispered, and the manacles that bound his wrists and ankles came undone. Silently, he crawled over to the cage door, laid his hands on the lock, and whispered again, " _Open_."

Slowly, he swung open the door, and stepped out of the cage, letting his feet fall on the ground lightly.

The 'Open Lock" spell was simple, yet effective, and had contributed to many successful missions in the past; it was not as common as it was two hundred years ago, so the majority of mages did not know of it; thankfully, he did, another benefit of the ten years of tutelage under a Psijic Monk, and then another ten serving as her agent.

It was dark now, and only two guards were still awake, sitting next to one another, and chatting in front of their campfire; the others were scattered about, sleeping in their bedrolls. So far, neither of the guards had noticed him, and neither had his fellow prisoners. Good, that made one part of this easy.

In normal circumstances, he would have snuck up on them, and then used a knife to kill them. He had no knife at the moment, nor did he know the spell to conjure one from Oblivion; the Psijics had a low opinion of Conjuration spells, and he never bothered to learn from that school back home in Cloudrest either.

He had other methods at his disposal however…

First he casted muffle on himself, followed by a simple invisibility spell. As quiet as the breeze, he made his way over to the guards, we were still chatting to one another in a language he could not understand. When he was directly behind the guard on the right, he sprang into action.

He grabbed the man's head with both hands, and broke his neck with a quick snap. When the other man, shocked by his comrade's sudden death, began to stand up, Clovis quickly drew the dead man's knife, and quickly slashed the other guard's throat, silencing him forever.

With the two now dead, Clovis cast his gaze to the others; still asleep, unaware of what he had just done.

With a grim look on his face, he readied his new dagger; he was not done with killing tonight.

* * *

"To be truthful, I actually like elves." a Nord said from the cage to Clovis, who was doing his best to ignore him, "I've always thought your pointed ears were very attractive, which was why I was sweet on this Dunmer girl back in Windhelm; Suvaris… something."

"Oh shut up Rolff, you're just embarrassing yourself now."

Clovis paid no attention to the now awake Nords, one of whom, a Rolff Stone-Fist, was doing his best to try and convince the Altmer to free him and his companions.

Instead, Clovis was busy going through the now dead guards' supplies, discovering, much to his surprise, that they had several chests filled with weapons taken from the fallen Nords, and his own Lions. To his sadness, he recognized the steel short-sword of a Uthard, a Breton and a friend, the flame staff of Nerias, a Dunmer, and a former lover, and the silver bow of Green-Scales, the Argonian scout.

Wordlessly, he selected these weapons to take with him, along with a quiver full of arrows, and a pair of steel daggers. He lamented the loss of his custom made elven plate armor, which now only the Eight and One knew the location of, but there was no use crying over spilled Skooma, as the Khajiit would say. So, he pulled the armor off one of the dead guards, and put it on himself.

It was an ill fit, clearly made for someone not as tall as Clovis was, but it would do; he had worked with worse in the past.

"Look elf." another Nord said, "I don't like you, and you don't like us; but it would not be right to leave us chained in here to starve to death. If you don't intend to free us, then at least kill us quick, it would be kinder that way."

"Skaldi, what the hell are you saying? Don't encourage him to kill us!"

"Quiet Rolff! Have some dignity for once in your life, and show some of the backbone that your brother had! I for one do not wish to die, starved to death while chained like a wild animal. If we are for Sovngarde, then I'd rather it come for me now, when I still have dignity, then days from now, when I am a wreck."

Clovis turned his head towards the cage, and considered his options. It would be cruel to leave them in the cage; to starve, and to wither away till the crows picked out their eyes. He was no Thalmor after all. Still, if he let them go, they could potentially attack him, or otherwise endanger his mission. It would be safer to kill them.

To say nothing of the fact that they were the same bandits who attacked his Lions, and may have even killed several of them…

Clovis stood up, and allowed a flame to engulf his hands. Slowly, he made his way over to the cage, the fire in his hands waiting to be unleashed.

"Do what you need to do High Elf." Skaldi said, closing his eyes, "I am unafraid."

Clovis raised his hands, ready to cast… but did nothing.

He was no murderer, and this, no matter how smart and pragmatic it seemed, was simply murder.

Instead, he let out a sigh, and the fire disappeared, replaced by a soft glowing light.

" _Open_."

The Nords' chains all unlocked, freeing them from imprisonment. Rolff let out a whoop of excitement, hugging one of his fellow Nords, while Skaldi rubbed his wrists, then looked at Clovis in confusion.

"There's weapons and other supplies in those crates over there." Clovis said, "Gather what you need, and then get out of here.

He did not need to tell them twice. The Nords eagerly left the cage, and began arming themselves. One of them looked over at the campfire, and noticed something odd.

"Why's that one still alive?" he said, pointing at the bound and gagged guard, who squirmed on the ground, grunting every few seconds.

"I need him for later." Clovis explained, noticing the Nord's confused stare, "For… magical reasons."

"Right, magic." Rolff said, "Best leave that to mages. Come on boys, let's finish arming ourselves and get out of here. I'd rather not stick around in this place any longer than I have to."

"What about you elf?" Skaldi asked, "Where will you be going?"

"I have things I must do here." Clovis replied, "We will probably never meet again."

"Well then in that case, I bid you farewell." Skaldi held out his hand to Clovis, who, despite reservations, took it.

"I am Skaldi, of Clan Ebonmace." the Nord said.

"I am Clovis." the Altmer responded.

"Clovis? That's not a common name among High Elves."

"No, it isn't."

"Well, I don't make it a habit of prying into the secrets of another man - or mer in this case. In any case, you have my gratitude. Divines smile on you Clovis the High Elf."

"May the Eight and One do the same to you Skaldi Ebonmace."

The Nord nodded, turned, and left, his countrymen following close behind, disappearing into the darkness, and headed south, towards the Gate, and through that, Skyrim.

Clovis narrowed his eyes, and turned towards his prisoner, who whimpered at his approach. As he knelt down, Clovis placed a hand on the left side of the man's head.

"There is much that I do not know about your world." Clovis said, aware that the man understood nothing, "I don't know places, your kings, or your history; I do not even know your language."

Clovis then placed his other hand on the right side of the man's head. He then began channeling magicka, and began casting a special spell, learned under his years as Olquen's agent.

"Let us fix that, shall we?"


End file.
